Far From Home
by rurousha
Summary: Years before Atlantis meets the Wraith, SG-2 meets a stranded alien. Major Griff and John Raythe from season 5 to 7.
1. Prologue: Those Aren't My Stars

**Prologue**

His left side was almost numb from too much pain. He was pretty sure his left leg was shattered. At the very least, it shouldn't be twisted at an angle like that.

Focus.

He needed to feed. If he was going to survive his injuries, he needed to feed.

No, he needed to get out of his ship first. He had crashed on land; hopefully the environment was breathable. The hull had crushed in on the left, pinning his arm to his side where a support had buckled in and pierced his limb. He didn't think he could get that off himself.

He used his right hand (thankfully uninjured, he would need it) to check his control panel. Nothing was responsive. The whole ship was shot. The cockpit shield would need to be retracted manually. He could do that. He sunk he fingers into the release to the right, near the seat, and twisted clockwise.

The sealed film shifted back, letting in cold, fresh air. It was dark out, he noted. Maybe he could use the stars to figure out where he had landed, send a signal home.

He was so hungry. Feed. Survive. Get home.

There was noise in the distance. Voices. Only a few of them, and headed his way. He hoped they were human. That would solve one problem, at least.

It was just a moment more before strong, curious hands pulled the support from his arm and side. He wasted no time, lashed out, and the man was dead in seconds.

He felt better already.

The second one tried to run, but he stumbled over his own feet in fear. He lept out of the cockpit, sprang on him, ready, but then a fire exploded on his back.

OK, ow. He turned, saw four armored figures carrying staffs running toward him. The staff tips exploded, and two shots of fire hit him in the chest. Oh, that hurt quite a lot.

He hit the ground, eyes to the sky. His only thought before he blacked out was, _Those aren't my stars._


	2. 1 What do we call you?

**Chapter 1 – What do we call you?**

_November 3, 2001_

"Isn't this why SG-1 exists? To do this kind of heroic stuff?"

"Keep it down, Sands." Major Michael Griff had only been commanding officer for a few weeks, and he had already been chased to the gate by Jaffa, had to climb a sheer cliff without gear, and had an allergic reaction to… something. He really didn't know.

And now he was sneaking aboard an al'kesh to rescue a group of scientists that had gotten snatched by Bastet Jaffa. Thankfully, the ship was landed for repairs, so this wasn't a space rescue.

Griff heard the distinct clomp of guards marching down the hall. He signaled Sands and Bell to duck into a storage closet to wait for them to pass. They squeezed in, and Griff slid the door closed just as the Jaffa turned the corner. He looked over his team as they passed.

Sergeant Jeffrey Bell was his alien tech expert and a good soldier. He kept his eyes open and his head on straight. A good shot, too.

Lieutenant Kylie Sands was a new recruit, and Griff was still getting used to her. She tended to talk too much. She wasn't much in hand-to-hand combat, which she thankfully only had to use on the sparring mat so far. But she kept a level head in rescue operations, which was her specialty.

Search and rescue hadn't really trained anyone for alien spaceships, though.

Once the guards passed, the team tip-toed out of the closet and continued down the hall. Sands had a good memory and had memorized the standard layout for all al'kesh. Griff followed her directions to the detainment level. Two more hiding spots, three zat blasts, and one quick grappling session with Bell, and they were in front of the cell with their scientists. All five of them were present, only one of which was an Air Force officer.

"Major, we are very happy to see you," Lieutenant Calers said. It was dark inside the cell, and he and two others were pressed against the bars. In fact, all five team members seemed to be crowded in the front of the cell.

Bell started to dismantle the external lock and hook his computer into it.

"Lieutenant, what happened?"

"We were studying the ruins four miles from the stargate, sir. The al'kesh landed; we weren't expecting it. Sir, Jaffa had already secured the gate by the time we got there."

"Don't worry, SG-12 has taken the gate back. They're waiting for us. I'm more worried about getting there. Getting in seemed too easy."

"You're thinking a trap?"

"Unlikely," a gravelly voice came from the darkened back of the cell. It seemed to almost echo in the confined space. "This is a skeleton repair crew. The only thing of any value at all on this ship is me. And I'm not worth much to them anymore."

"Lieutenant?" Griff tried to peer into the dark over Calers's shoulder. He could just make out the shape of a humanoid. Long, pale hair was the most detail he could see.

"We have a cell-mate, sir. He's chained to the back wall. He, uh," the soldier leaned in closer and dropped his voice a bit. "He tried to attack us when we came in. Hit Nova pretty hard in the chest. Nova's OK, but we've been staying out of reach of his chains. I'm… pretty sure he's not human."

"You're a grand total of twenty feet away; I can hear you." Sardonic came through very well on that voice.

"Sir," Bell said from Griff's right. "Bastet uses a different coding system than Apophis. It's going to take me at least ten more minutes to get into this."

"I doubt we have that long, Bell."

"You're correct. There are at least four more soldiers coming down the hall you came from. They know you're here," the stranger in the back said.

"You can hear that?" Sands asked. She looked over from where she was supposed to be keeping watch down that very hall.

"I know the access code to open the door, too," the shape in the back of the cell said.

"Really," Griff said, dripping sarcasm and doubt.

"I hacked their computers weeks ago. I've already escaped once; it's why they started chaining me up. Swear to take me with you, and I'll give it to you."

Any response Griff had was cut off by Sands' weapon fire. She ducked back around the corner to avoid staff blasts. "Apparently he _can_ hear that far."

"Apparently, you have a deal. Let's hear it."

"Seven one zero four four."

Bell typed on his computer, and the cell gates slid open. Griff handed his backup weapon to Calers and they joined Sands in the fight. Several volleys were exchanged, but neither side made any progress. "OK, let's try this." Griff pulled a flash-bang out of one of his vest pockets and pulled the pin. "Down." The soldiers and scientists crouched down, closed their eyes, and covered their ears. Griff tossed the grenade around the corner, then quickly joined them. A loud bang later, and the firing stopped. Griff could hear moans around the corner, and someone bumped hard into the wall. "Hoo. Bell, make sure they stay down, yeah?"

Bell nodded, grabbed his zat gun, and knocked the Jaffa out.

Griff exhaled deeply. Which wasn't the same thing as a sigh. Because he didn't sigh. "OK, stranger. Let's get everyone home." He picked up one of the cell guards' staff weapons and pulled his gun's flashlight off its bracket. He held it along the staff so that he could use it as a sight in the dark room. The small light shone on the prisoner, catching white, stringy hair and long, black clothing that looked vaguely leather. Griff caught only a brief glance of the prisoner's face, with an odd pattern of veins across the jaw, before the alien turned to avoid getting the light in his eyes. He pulled the chain taught and his hands apart. Griff held the staff level, aiming at the point where the chains on each hand joined to extend to the wall. A flash of gold light, and the chains exploded just a few inches below the manacles.

The prisoner gave a raspy sigh, then a growl. Griff took a step back, but the man just stepped slowly, carefully towards the light of the hall.

"So then, stranger, what do we call you?"

The light hit him, and he squinted as he looked up at it. The man was tall, more than six feet. His black clothes looked more like an armored trench coat than anything else. And Calers was definitely correct. He was not human. His skin was a waxy grey, almost green, and his lips were pulled tight against his pointed teeth. Dark blue blood vessels could be seen through his skin, and there were grooves on either side of his nose. A series of tattooed dots formed an 'S' pattern on the left side of his face with his eye in the middle.

He turned to look at Griff. "You call me Wraith."


	3. 2 Let Nothing Overcome

**Chapter 2 – Let Nothing Overcome**

_Still November 11, 2001_

Hunger had been his constant companion these last months. But he needed to stay alert. _Don't let the hunger overcome your senses._ That was what he had always been told. _Don't let anything overcome your senses. Not hunger, not hate, not fear. Be aware, be thoughtful. _This was key to hunting, to exploration, to survival. He almost forgot it when the humans were thrown in the cell with him, and he attempted to feed on one. His fatigue made him clumsy, though, and he only succeeded in knocking the man down and ensuring that the others did not come near him.

Then a rescue party arrived. His senses returned with a chance of escape. He convinced the leader to let him free.

"You call me Wraith."

There was no reaction beyond mild surprise at his appearance. No fear. That did not surprise him. These people that had caught him, the ones that appeared human, but were not quite human, did not recognize him either. Wherever he was, the people did not know wraith.

How exciting.

"Like the Scottish ghosts?" the woman with the gun asked. The differences between human genders was minute, but the women at least had external shapes similar to that of wraith females.

He picked up a staff weapon from one of the unconscious Jaffa guards. "I don't know what Scottish is, but I am not a ghost." Then he fired the weapon into the guard's chest.

"What the hell?!" The human leader grabbed the staff and pulled it up so that the tip was no longer pointed at anyone.

"This man was vicious, sadistic, and frequently bored. He was also my guard for several months. I will not apologize."

The leader ground his blunt teeth against each other. This seemed to help him reach a decision because he let go of the weapon. "Alright everyone, let's get out of here." He led the group of eight back around the corner.

He followed the humans. As weak as he was, he did not think he could escape the ship, let alone the planet, without them. They were remarkably well armed for humans and clearly militaristic. So at least they had that going for them. The woman that asked about ghosts earlier noticed him sway for a step. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"They have been starving me."

"Why would they do that?"

They made it through several corners before they reached opposition, and he heard it before the humans did. Footsteps. Many of them. But not the armored boots of the Jaffa. The human leader held up his left fist and crouched down. The others followed suit. This apparently meant _Stop and be quiet_. But these new arrivals did not wait for the humans to turn the corner. They came around firing blindly at them with those S-shaped electrical dischargers. He did not like those weapons.

One of the humans with him collapsed when he was hit. Three of the humans fired their weapons into the advancing mass while two others pulled the fallen man into an alcove of double doors. "I wonder where these doors go."

"The dining room," he answered immediately. This earned him a couple of odd looks. "What? Did you think your enemies did not eat?"

The response this time was an eye roll. He wasn't sure what that meant. Still, the soldier pushed the doors open for the group to get inside. "Sir, this way." The humans all ducked into the dining room with him, and one pushed a heavy table against the door. The room looked like most dining rooms he had seen. Tables, chairs, and too much heat.

"Ah," the woman said to him. "We call this a mess hall."

He ignored her and pulled a chair over to one wall.

"So much for a skeleton crew. That was a lot of soldiers."

"They didn't seem like soldiers to me, Calers."

He stood up on the chair so that he could reach a ventilation grate. "They were slaves. The repair crew."

"Dammit. We just fired on civilians."

His hands shook, but he gripped the grate and, with a loud scrape and snap, pulled it free of the wall. "What are civilians?"

The leader gave him a look that he did not understand. "Nevermind. Can we get out that way?"

He stepped back down and nodded. "Not quietly, but yes."

The one previously called Bell spoke up. "The nearest exit should be straight forward and to the left."

"Lead the way," the leader said. The humans became occupied with getting the scientists into the vents behind Bell. He realized that, for the first time since this started, no one was paying attention to him.

Good. Because he heard exactly what he was hoping for.

He slipped to the back of the room, away from the pounding on the double door. He quietly opened the doors into the cooking area, the kitchen he thought it was called. He inhaled deeply.

And there she was. A slave girl, curled up under one of the sinks, quietly sobbing. He could barely see her behind the rows of counters. "Little girl, don't worry. The invaders are leaving." He heard a hiccup and a choked cry. He moved soundlessly around the counters and crouched down level with her. She startled back behind a pipe when she saw his face. "Shh shh." He put a finger to her lips to stop a scream. She was young, he thought. An adolescent. Her eyes were enormous and wet, and he was close enough now to feel the fear in her heart. "Don't worry. It's over now."

He thrust his palm to her chest, and she gasped in pain and surprise, her eyes widening even further. She choked on her voice as he drained the life from her, and his arm burned in relief. Finally.

SGCSGCSGCSGCSGC

Outside and halfway to the gate, the SG teams ran full tilt towards the gate. Just because they couldn't see anyone following them doesn't mean no one was there.

Griff grabbed his radio. "SG-12, dial the gate. We're on our way!"

"Sir, we lost Wraith!" Sands yelled.

Griff whipped his head around to check but saw no sign of the alien. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd seen him since the vents. Had he even gotten into the vents with them? Damn, he couldn't wait for the alien to catch up, if he was even following them in the first place.

The team broke the tree line just as the vortex formed and stabilized into the stargate event horizon. Griff took position next to SG-12 to cover the escape of the scientists. All five made it through when a staff blast exploded on Bell's back.

Griff and SG-12 opened fire towards the trees. A single Jaffa ducked behind a heavy trunk. Sands helped Bell dive behind the DHD. Luckily, Bell's backpack took most of the damage from the blast. Griff continued to fire towards the tree as two members of SG-12 helped Bell through the gate. Then there was the distinct shape of an armored Jaffa flying out ten feet and landing on his face.

Wraith stepped out from the trees as the Jaffa stood and swung his staff weapon towards Wraith's head. Wraith blocked, grabbed the front of the Jaffa's armor, and kicked him square in the chest. The Jaffa stumbled back but immediately blocked a punch from Wraith. He tried to sweep Wraith's feet out, but he jumped, kicked the Jaffa while in the air, landed, grabbed his shoulder, and twisted him to his knees. Before the Jaffa could recover, Wraith wrapped his arm around his head and broke the Jaffa's neck.

The SG members looked on, a bit stunned. Wraith looked up at Griff. "Can we get off this rock now?"


	4. 3 You Need a Name, Stranger

**Chapter 3 – You Need a Name, Stranger**

_November 13, 2001_

Two days later, Griff was on his way to yet another debriefing. Apparently bringing an alien home with you was cause for some commotion. This one was to actually include said alien, so that was progress at least.

Griff was pretty sure SG-1 never had to put up with this kind of thing. Didn't Stargate Command just meet Teal'c and trust him immediately without any fuss? He was pretty sure that was what had happened.

Griff walked down the stairs to the conference room where General Hammond and, for some reason, SG-1 were already seated. The alien was standing by the window, looking at the stargate. Two airmen were hovering nearby. Based on how that last Jaffa faired, Griff doubted the airmen would be of any use should the alien turn hostile.

"You really need a name, stranger," Griff said as he took a seat next to General Hammond. The alien turned at his voice. Griff noticed that he even stood a little straighter and took care to look him in the eye before responding. Apparently the alien acknowledged him as the leader.

"Actually, you're subordinates gave one to me just this morning."

SGCSGCSGC

_Three hours earlier._

There was a knock on his door. He had really never heard of any people that were so polite to their prisoners, for that was clearly what he was. This room was at least much more comfortable than that Goa'uld cell. It was certainly more than he ever expected from humans.

"Come in."

One of the soldiers outside his door opened it for two other humans, ones he recognized from the rescue party two days previous. He had seen their leader a couple of times since then, but not them.

"Hi," the female spoke first. "Sorry we haven't had a chance to check up on you yet. There's been a lot to report to the senior staff. We wanted to introduce ourselves. I'm Lieutenant Kylie Sands, and this is Sergeant Jeffery Bell."

"Hi," Bell said and held his hand out toward him. He looked at the hand for a moment. He had seen humans shake hands before, but clearly this practice would not extend to wraith. Or it should not, if they knew what was good for them. Which they obviously didn't. So he put his hand in the human's and chuckled at the man's ignorance. "So, what's your name?"

"Humans call us wraith."

"Us?" the woman asked. "You mean that's the name of your species."

"Yes."

"To us, wraith are monsters. Fictional ones. I'd rather not call you that."

"To humans, or at least all the ones I know of, I imagine we are monsters."

"You are kind of freaky looking," Bell said.

"Please. We saw Unas last year; you're nothing."

"So what's your personal name?" Bell got the subject back on track. "Or, do wraith not have names?"

"We find your… sound-labels unnecessary. Our primary means of communication is much more direct and clearer than speech. We immediately know what or who the other is talking about. Names are just cumbersome."

"Sadly, our cumbersone speech is the only one we got, so you're going to need a name," Bell said. "We can't keep calling you 'that tall alien guy that we broke out of Bastet's grounded al'kesh two days ago'. If nothing else, it's a mouthful."

"Hm." A smile tugged at his lips.

"What?"

"That was funny." The humans seemed amused by this even more and chuckled. He continued, "I know nothing of human naming traditions, so perhaps you should name me."

Bell spoke up. "Well, you don't really look like a Joe Schmoe. And John Doe's a bit cliché."

"John's a good name. A bit common, but nice. We could keep Wraith as his last name, which is traditionally the family name." Sands directed this last comment to him. "Maybe spell it differently, though."

SGCSGCSGCSGC

"I have been given the name John Raythe. Apparently, the spelling is important."

Griff raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. General Hammond seemed unaffected. "Well then, Mister Raythe," the general said, "take a seat. I understand you've asked for asylum since coming here."

"Yes." The now-named Raythe sat down next to Teal'c. "Seeing your stargate has only confirmed my suspicions. I know none of the symbols on it. I don't recognize your stars. Before being captured, I had never heard of Goa'uld, and you have never heard of wraith. The only conclusion I can come to is that I am in another galaxy. I have no idea how to get home."

"He must be from a neighboring galaxy," Doctor Jackson said. "One with stargates, like the Asgard's galaxy. Theoretically, if you knew the address, we could dial your galaxy and send you home. But I don't suppose you know your galaxy's stargate address?" Raythe shook his head. "And we definitely don't have anything that could power that kind of wormhole."

"Thank you anyway. It is a relief to me to even know that return is possible."

"Quick question," Colonel O'Neill raised a hand. "How'd you get here?"

"That was my question," Griff added.

"It is a bit of a mystery to me as well. I had just been awoken for a hunt. Our ship's resources were depleted, so we stopped at a planet whose wild livestock population had been allowed to grow for a couple generations. I was to lead a squadron of warriors. It was my first command assignment. But before I was even able to enter the atmosphere, a strange… _something_ appeared on my left and pulled my ship into it. I lost sensors immediately and flight controls were barely responsive. I crashed on one of Bastet's planets."

Captain Carter spoke up next. "It's possible you hit a natural wormhole. Like what the stargate creates, but much less stable and completely unpredictable."

"It's a miracle you're alive, son," General Hammond said. "We're glad for that, at least. And we understand that you're not keen to wander around a strange galaxy dominated by the Goa'uld."

"But what happened to your crashed ship?" Teal'c asked. "Certainly Bastet attempted to incorporate its technology into her own."

"Yes," Raythe answered. "They tried to make me explain the technology to them. But when I was taken to my ship to show them how it worked, I activated the self-destruct instead. It is not acceptable for a wraith to allow technology to fall into enemy hands. After that, they left me to starve in my cell."

"We're sorry to hear that," Doctor Jackson said. "And I think we should be clear. We would love to learn about your technology, but no one here is going to force you to tell us."

"Thank you. It is, after all, not my choice to make."

"Is that why you wouldn't let Doc Frasier examine you?" Griff asked.

SGCSGCSGCSGC

_November 12, 2001_

"What's this?" The woman – she introduced herself as Doctor Frasier – held his right hand in both of hers and examined his palm. She was understandably interested in the slit framed by a series of shallow grooves.

"You don't know?"

She shook her head.

"Then I think I should not tell you."

SGCSGCSGCSGC

"Yes. While you are unlike any humans I have ever heard of, I do not know how my species will react to you. And it is not my place to decide for them. I have no right to give away the secrets of my entire species. Such decisions should be left only to a council of queens."

"That's alright, son," General Hammond said. "And Doctor Frasier said that so long as you are willing to give blood samples to check for pathogens, which will immediately be destroyed, and submit to an ultrasound to check for Goa'uld implantation, you don't have to have a regular exam."

"General, it's against my beliefs to have a prostate exam every physical. Do I get out of it?"

"Shut up, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

"Mister Raythe, you are welcome to Stargate Command, at least until you decide to go somewhere else. I need to stress, however, that you cannot leave the base so long as you're on the planet."

"Yes, sir. It was already explained to me that my appearance on your planet would be something of an upset. I understand that your… civilians?... do not know of the stargate or of life beyond your Earth. Which I admit seems odd to me. I cannot envision being tied to the land even with use of the stargate network, let alone being forced to remain on a single planet."

"We manage somehow," the general responded.

"Still, while I am here, I would like to be of use. Perhaps I could help your exploration teams. It would give me the chance to search for a way home."

"I'll consider it. Is there anything else you'd like to ask for now?"

"One more thing. I am confused by chain of command. It is much more complicated than mine. Is there someone that could explain your ranking system to me?"

Griff responded instead of the general. "I'll send Sands around with a regulation manual. It'll explain our divisions of military, the ranks, and basic rules."

"Thank you."

"Airmen, would you escort Mister Raythe back to his room. He also has clearance to go to the mess hall, the infirmary, and the gym."

"Yessir."

Once Raythe and his escort had left, General Hammond turned to Griff.

"What are your thoughts on him, Major?"

"I'm not sure, really. He seems genuine in his desire to join us and help, but he's definitely hiding something. Something about him puts me on edge."

"Well, yeah," Doctor Jackson said. "He said he was hiding things. He doesn't want to give us information about his technology or his people. Any one of us would do the same in his position."

"Given that the collection of technology is one of our primary goals, that's going to be hard for the Pentagon to swallow, especially if he joins the Stargate Program," Captain Carter added.

"That occurred to me, too," General Hammond said. "For now, I'll leave the fact that these wraith from another galaxy have fully-functional space craft out of my reports. Maybe he'll tell us more when he trusts us more. And, if we ever do meet the rest of his species, maybe he can put in a good word for us. So be careful, people."

This seemed to be a generally accepted dismissal because everyone started to gather their things and leave. Teal'c, however, leaned over the table to Griff. "Major Griff. I feel I should warn you that he puts me, too, on edge. There is a danger in him. I would watch him very carefully."

"Yeah, I thought so. Thanks Teal'c."


	5. 4 Fitting In

**Chapter 4 – Fitting In**

_November 14, 2001_

"Bell, what happened to you?" Griff found the sergeant in the bathroom leaning over a sink. He was holding a bloody paper towel to his nose.

"Uh heheh. Rayzthe," Bell said thickly. Griff thought Bell might be grinning behind his hand.

"Raythe punched you in the nose?" Oh, maybe Teal'c was right. If this guy was picking fights, that was going to be trouble real fast. Especially if he really was as strong as Griff suspected.

"Yeb. Oh, no. No." Bell pulled the paper towel away so that he could speak normally. "He's in the gym, sir. On the sparring mat. Guys were going two on one with him, last I saw. You should really see it, sir. I just hope Teal'c gets in there soon and redeems us."

"If his fight with that Jaffa is anything to go by, I'm sure he's impressive."

"No. Well, yes, he is. But that's not what you need to see."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say that I think he read that regulations manual."

SGCSGCSGCSGC

It was immediately obvious what Bell meant. The sparring mat was on the right side of the room, nothing more formal than some falling mats set up in a ten foot square. At that moment, there were half a dozen men on both sides, goading on those in the middle. Raythe was blocking attacks from two marines, using his quick feet to keep one in between him and the second at all times.

He looked… different. The hair was most obvious. Raythe must have found someone to cut it, because it was short and slightly spiked. It actually looked a little silly on him. He had also abandoned his heavy black coat and pants for standard SGC blues. Griff didn't see any of the ornamentation on the alien's hands, either. It was hard to be sure from Griff's distance, but he thought Raythe's previously pointed nails may have even been filed short.

Well, he was certainly making the effort to fit in, Griff would give him that.

Raythe spun to block a kick and spotted Griff. He immediately straightened and stood at attention. The action made the others in the room notice the officer, and they separated slightly to make space.

"No, don't let me stop you," Griff raised a hand to wave them off. Then he changed his mind and stepped onto the mat himself. "Actually, let's see what you've got."

The grinning soldiers stepped off the mat to give Griff some space. He was creating a spectacle, he knew, but he needed a better feel for this guy. Maybe fighting him would give him some insight.

He hoped.

Griff brought up his fists, and Raythe mirrored him, though he left his hands open. Griff decided to get a move on and threw a few punches. Raythe blocked easily enough with his palms and kicked at Griff. Griff blocked and spun to swing an elbow into Raythe's ribs.

Then, before he even realized where Raythe was, Griff felt his feet sweep out underneath him, and he landed hard on his back. Raythe's palm immediately slammed into his chest to pin him down. And Griff saw his eyes. There was an intensity there, and Griff felt the air leave his body. God, Raythe was a predator. He was going to kill him.

"Geez, Raythe, didn't anyone ever teach you to go easy on your elders?" one of the soldiers said.

"No, never." Raythe pulled his hand back and offered it to Griff to help him up. He seemed to struggle for a second on what to say. Then, "Sir."

SGCSGCSGCSGCSGC

_All beings need to eat. Wraith, Lantians, humans, birds, insects, microorganisms. All beings eat. _But not everyone agreed on what should be eaten. This fundamental fact was what made humans so angry all the time. They couldn't accept it. Raythe had once seen a human male try to fight off Raythe's warriors when they took his daughter, despite the fact that the man was outnumbered and the girl was dying already. She had been beyond help, but the man still fought. Pointless. But Raythe was glad to have learned this lesson early.

Humans did not approve of what wraith ate. If Raythe was to fit in with these humans, for however long that was needed, he needed to act more like them. And they would expect him to eat.

So, he sat in their mess hall (which did not appear especially messy) every day and ate their food while two airmen stood at the doors. The humans in the room attempted to ignore him, but he frequently caught uneasy glances cast his way.

He didn't know why humans seemed to enjoy eating so much. While he had never eaten like this before, he didn't especially enjoy the rubbery feel of most of it. Being served today was something called spaghetti. He was nearly done with the plate of food when the woman from Major Griff's unit - Sands, he recalled - sat down across from him. She set her own tray down and smiled at him. "Hey," she said. "Mind if I join you?" Raythe shrugged. "I see you read that manual I gave you." She indicated Raythe's newly-cut hair.

"Yes... Thank you." Raythe wondered what she was doing here, with him. She didn't seem to have any of the wariness of the others in the room.

"I just wanted to let you know that if you have any questions about humans or Earth or the Milky Way galaxy, I'm happy to answer them. I love to explain things. And talk in general."

"I'm getting that."

"So, how have you're first days at Stargate Command been?"

Raythe looked over at his guards. One waved as if to let him know he was still looking. "Heavily supervised."

Sands' smile slipped a little. "Oh, yeah, sorry. We've had trouble in the past from off-worlders wandering around. The security will come off of you eventually."

"I understand. I would not let a stranger wander my home without an escort, either. Especially at what is clearly a military center."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. You didn't know what civilians were, did you? Do you not know the word? Civilians are non-military people. You know, they do normal jobs, like practice medicine or, I don't know, pick up the garbage."

"I have never heard of civilians. We, of course, have individuals trained to do... normal... jobs. I, myself, specialized in navigation. But all are soldiers. All fight for the community and our Queen when we are needed."

"Huh. No civilians. Weird. We have stratocracies, but nothing like what you're describing."

"You have people who do not fight when you're at war?"

Sands snorted lightly. "Most the people on our world don't even know we're at war. At least, not the war with Goa'uld. The stargate isn't public knowledge."

"Why not? Every human civilization I know of centers their communities around the stargate if they are able."

"We only found our stargate a few years ago. I think our leaders are afraid that people might freak out if they knew aliens existed. Or that everyone might want to use the stargate. And that's simply not feasible with a population as a large as Earth's."

"Why," Raythe asked as he twirled some noodles around his fork. "How big is it?"

"Um, about six billion people."

All the air suddenly left Raythe's lungs, and he fumbled his fork. He opened his mouth a couple of times to speak, but nothing came out.

"You've, um, stabbed your hand with your fork."

"Yes, I seem to have done that."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"How can your planet possibly be large enough to sustain a population that size? Don't you fight with each other over space and resources? That can't even be possible, can it?"

"Seriously, your hand."

Raythe pulled the fork out of his palm. "Focus, Lieutenant. Giant planet. Overpopulation."

"Fine. No, we're not an especially large planet. Yes, we're overpopulated. Yes, it causes problems."

"Well, I would imagine, yes. I think you're planet might have more humans than my entire galaxy. No wonder you have no respect for women; with a population that large, you take them for granted."

"What's that supposed to mean? Our species respects women. A lot more than we did a few decades ago, anyway. We're allowed to have jobs, own property, even fight in the military."

"No wraith with any semblance of honor would allow a female into combat."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Sands' mouth went flat. "Our society used to think like that. It used to be that women were thought to be weaker and too emotional, so they weren't allowed to fight or lead. It's taken a long time to change that."

Raythe's eyebrows drew together. What odd ideas these humans had. "Women were considered inferior to men?" Sands nodded, and Raythe thought she was rather annoyed with him. "Wraith do not think that at all. Our females are far superior. They are stronger, mentally and physically. They have better instincts, are longer-lived, and the life of a single Queen is worth thousands of the lives she rules. Perhaps it is different with humans. You do not recognize your own worth because there are so many females. I have estimated nearly twenty percent of your population to be female."

"What? No. That's just in the military. In general, half of our population is female."

Raythe eyes widened. "Half? No wonder you reproduce so quickly."

"Well, what's it like with wraith populations?"

"Less than one percent of all natural-born wraith are female."

"Holy crap!" Sands' outburst caused some others in the mess hall to look towards their table. Sands didn't seem to notice. "Well, yeah, that would be why you don't let the women fight. Jeez. One woman dies, and that entire community wouldn't have a next generation."

"Yes." Finally, she understood. Humans were a bit dense, apparently. "The birth of a female is a highly celebrated event. The child is raised and protected by the strongest and oldest of wraith. Unlike males, they are never put into incubation pods through adolescence so that they can learn as much as possible."

"Ugh. Incubation pods. Sounds like an unpleasant childhood."

"I can't say I remember it much."

"Do you really live your whole life in space? The major mentioned it earlier."

"Yes. We train for hunts on land, but we live on ships."

"Hunts?"

"Yes. We have to get our supplies for planets. While our technology could simply harvest any animals we need, we have decided to remember our roots as predators and learn to track and hunt. The older mentors put tracking devices on especially difficult prey so that they can follow the progress of the youth in their charge. I myself was the best tracker in my unit." If he puffed his chest out a bit at that, who was to blame him. His Guide had always been impressed with his tracking skills.

Sands gave a breathy laugh. "You sound kind of like Klingons."

"I don't know what that means."

"But wait, you can't've evolved in space, could you? I mean, you seem pretty similar to us. But I would expect you to be completely different if you had evolved in space."

Raythe hesitated a moment. He would have to be careful here. These people clearly worshipped the Lantians. Mentioning their involvement in Wraith evolution would probably not work in his favor.

"Sorry, I don't want to put you on the spot or anything," Sands said. She had apparently caught on to his apprehension and backpedalled. For a race so without connection to one another, they were rather perceptive.

"No, it should be alright. This is not a secret. You're correct; we were once planet-dwellers, like you. But we were a curious and adventurous species. Once we learned to use the stargate, we travelled quite extensively. But we were also an ambitious species, and we often came into conflict with native species, mostly humans. Left alone, this may have simply looked like the land disputes of any other world, but there was another, much more technologically advanced species in the galaxy. They studied the humans and were possessive of them. They told us to leave and remain on our planet. We refused. We do not respond well to being bullied. I think our peoples have this in common. But they had the means to cut us off from our stargate. They stranded us on a single planet, never allowing us to explore further. I suppose their arrogance led them to believe that because they had superior technology, they had the right to dictate the fates of whole worlds."

"Jerks. They sound kind of like Goa'uld. 'I have the big guns, so you have to do what I say.'"

"The similarities have not escaped me. But we had no choice in the matter. And so long as we were on our home world, we were left alone. But we did not remain stagnant. Rather than be ruled by the aliens and the stargate, we built ships. Ones large enough for entire colonies. We travelled the stars instead of the lands. And, I think, we are the better for it. As I imagine the Jaffa will be one day, once they are free from the Goa'uld."

"That must be amazing. Living in space."

"It is... quite beautiful."

"So what happened to the aliens? The jerks."

Raythe grinned viciously. "They paid for their arrogance."

SGCSGCSGCSGC

"So, what do you think of him?" General Hammond gestured for Major Griff to take a seat across from him at his desk.

Griff refused to sigh. He had been expecting this question for days now. For some reason, SGC personnel kept coming to him with questions about the base's new 'John Raythe'. "I'm fine with letting him out for missions, but I don't know if I want him backing me up when my team gets into trouble. And I really don't want him around when we're trying to make friends with the natives."

"Oh? Everyone else I've spoken to has high praises for him. Or at least his combat skills. And, apparently, he can read Ancient. Called it 'the language of the gatebuilders'. Several unit leaders have already requested him on their team."

"I don't know. It's not one thing in particular, I don't think. I mean, he plays the good soldier whenever an officer is in the room, and he's trying to fit in with the troops and the scientists, but... Some of the things he says, sir. Or, the way he killed that Jaffa guard."

"You mean when you first rescued him? I was under the impression that guard tortured him for some time."

"Yeah, and I really don't know if I would've done any different in his position. But... it was just so easy for him. And that Jaffa at the gate, too. He was ruthless. He didn't even know what a civilian was. As stupidly idealistic as it sounds, I don't know if I want someone that cold interacting with people we're trying to make allies of."

"You're worried that you can't trust him to make moral decisions when in the field?"

"Yes sir. I think that's a good way of putting it."

"Well, he's certainly a special case, and I'm not going to push him on to any team. I simply thought I should make the offer to you first since he specifically requested your command."

"He – he did?" Griff was truly stunned. He had barely spoken to the alien in the past few days, and he hadn't thought there was anything special about their interactions. Beyond Griff breaking him out of prison, anyway. Obviously.

"Yes, Major, he did. He seems to have imprinted you as his commanding officer."

"If you just mentally compared Raythe to a baby duck and me to its mother, you can forget that right now." Griff rethought that for a second. "Sir."

Luckily Hammond had a sense of humor. He simply smiled at Griff. "Well, I'll keep looking for a place for Mr. Raythe."

SGCSGCSGCSGC

"Do you like it?" Sands asked. For some reason, his comfort here seemed important to her.

Raythe shrugged. "It's adequate. It is very different from what I am used to, but if it is nourishment enough for you, it should work for me."

"But do you like it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's more to meals than nourishment."

Raythe thought on the other times he had been in the mess hall. Humans did seem to eat a variety of foods, which was odd. Wouldn't it be more efficient to create one food that supplied all the nourishment they needed? What was the point beyond that?

He looked around the room. Everyone sat in clusters at tables, chatting and laughing. Maybe that was what she meant. "You mean the socialization? I have noticed that eating seems to be a social tool to humans."

"Well, yes, that's true, but that's not – oh here." She placed one of her plates in front of him. Raythe recognized the food as one that the cooks said had poor nutritional value. "Try this."

"Why?"

"Just do it. I'm beginning to get a hunch about the way you eat."

Raythe looked at her. She was smiling and practically vibrating, and Raythe thought he was being teased. Best to find out why. He sliced a piece of the food off and put it in his mouth.

Well, that was new. The outside of it was hard, but the inside was soft and a bit warm. It was thick and wet, and his underused taste buds were learning a few new adjectives. "I – This is – ." He framed his fingers over the food in an attempt to find the word.

"Good?"

"Yes. There is something about this that is very _good_. What is it?"

Sands' smile turned into a full-out grin. "Pie. Apple pie, specifically."

"Well, I like it. What do they do to it to make it better than all the other food?"

"It's called sugar. And cinnamon."

Raythe quickly shoved the rest of the pie into his mouth and said, "Is there more?" His words came out garbled because the food was in the way, and Sands apparently found this hilarious. She burst out laughing, and Raythe realized that two nearby soldiers were smiling in their direction.

"Hillman," one of the soldiers called to the cook on the other side of the counter, "I think we're going to need more pie."

SGCSGCSGCSGCSGC

Griff heard a fair level of noise coming from the mess hall before he even opened the door. Inside, he found Sands and four other personnel, including the cook Hillman, sitting at a table with Raythe. The table was littered with dessert plates of apple pie, walnut brownies, and snickerdoodles. The group was all laughing at something.

"World peace through chocolate; it's so simple!" Sands said.

"I believe it has sound applications," Raythe replied with a grin and a laugh.

Then Hillman doubled over laughing.

"Stop, stop laughing, you're going to set me off again," Raythe said. "What's so funny this time?"

"It's *gasp* the way you laugh."

Raythe's voice came out stuttered as he tried to hold in another laugh. "What?"

"You're voice is all echo-y and dramatic, so it sounds like you're an evil mastermind or something," Sands explained. She inhaled deeply, but that just seemed to set her off more. "But it's about dessert, so it's just really out of context." She started giggling.

Griff suddenly realized that a lot of the tension from the past few days had melted away in just the last few seconds. It was nice to see everyone so relaxed. He stepped towards the table. Raythe spotted him and started to stand up. "No no. I'm just grabbing this." Griff bent over Sands and retrieved a brownie plate. "The brownies are mine."

"All of them, sir?" Huh, if the smart-ass little smile was anything to go by, then Raythe had caught on to the fact that he was joking. Good to know that these Wraith had more humor than most Jaffa he'd met. He was remarkably relieved. Psychopaths and super villains had a tendency to take themselves way too seriously. If Raythe could laugh at himself, then he couldn't be all bad.

"Yes, all of them, soldier. And Raythe? SG-2 is leaving on a mapping mission tomorrow at oh nine hundred hours. I'll be expecting you there."

Sands' smile showed all her teeth, and Raythe sat up a bit straighter, still sporting a smile of his own. "Yes sir."


	6. 5 I Think

**Chapter 5 – I Think**

_November 30, 2001_

This had to be some sort of test. There was no way that SG-2 normally went on this many 'look at the Lantian ruins' missions. Or Ancients, Raythe reminded himself. The Earthlings called Lantians Ancients. He would have to be careful about that.

Anyway, this was the third ruin study Raythe had done, which didn't make any sense. If their SG number designated their importance at the SGC (and that did seem to be the case), then SG-2 really should be doing more interesting work. So this had to be some sort of probation period for Raythe's benefit.

He could deal with that. No matter how mind-numbingly boring it was.

Raythe kicked a rock into the tall grass. They were only a few hundred yards from the gate. The 'ruins' were really just a few pillars with Ancient chiseled into them. They were collapsed into loose dirt that was almost sand. The area immediately around them was waist-high grass, and there were sparse trees a little further away.

Bell swept an EM sensor around the pillars. "I'm not picking up any energy readings. Looks like the stone pillars really are just stone."

Griff sighed. Raythe suspected he was also tired of these missions. "Alright, then. Raythe, you're up. Get to translating."

Raythe pulled his backpack off and dug around in it for a notebook. He found it difficult to translate directly from Ancient to Human (English, they called it), so he had to work everything out in Wraith first.

"How many Ancient ruins can there be in the galaxy?" Sands muttered as she started to circle the area.

Raythe looked over at her as she spoke, then stopped. Something had just moved out of the corner of his eye. He scanned the area, but there was nothing. He didn't see any movement in the grass, which seemed the most likely hiding place.

"Raythe, what're you staring at?" Bell called from over by one of the pillars.

"Apparently nothing." He turned and started to walk to Bell.

A flutter of movement.

Raythe spun back towards Sands, grabbing uselessly for a stunner than wasn't there. Right, the handgun strapped to his thigh. He drew it, startling Griff to point his P-90 in the direction Raythe was looking.

"Raythe, what the hell are you doing?" the annoyed major asked.

"There's something here. I'm not sure where."

"I don't see anything."

"I think he might be right, sir," Sands called from over at the edge of the grass. "There's an indent in the sand that might be a pawprint, and a parting in the grass, about two inches wide."

"Two inches sounds like a large rodent or a small cat, Lieutenant. Not exactly a threat."

"Yeah, probably." Sands straightened up from where she was bent over the sand.

There it was again. Raythe definitely saw the sand move. Like a ripple that lasted for just a second, moving towards Sands. "Lieutenant, I think you should step over this way. Quickly."

Sands gave Raythe an odd look but started towards him.

The ground exploded in a shower of sand. And the beast that came up with it was definitely not a small cat.

It was at least six feet long and three feet wide but only a few inches tall. It hadn't burrowed into the ground, Raythe realized. It had just lain completely flat with a single layer of sand on top of it, like those flat fish that lived on some ocean floors. Its mouth was a wide gap of teeth on the underside of its body, and it used its six spindly legs to launch itself up to Sands' head height before she even realized what was happening.

Raythe opened fire. The bullets hit its enormous body, and the beast recoiled away from the hits. Raythe didn't see any blood, though. He realized that its skin must be quite tough.

Griff let off a burst of bullets, and the thing backed away towards the grass.

Then the most astonishing thing happened. In just a couple seconds' time, the beast's entire mass shifted up, making it three feet tall and only two inches wide instead of the other way around. It raced into the grass, folding itself around the blades so that its exact position was impossible to determine.

"Jesus Christ, did you see that?" Bell shouted. "It's like it didn't even have bones."

Sands was panting out of shock, but she managed to point behind the rest of the team, in the direction of the stargate. "I think we're about to see more of them."

Raythe spun around. The grass on several sides was moving rapidly.

"Climb!" Griff shouted at them all. "Climb, everyone climb the pillars."

All four of them ran for the stones. Bell was already on top of one of the fallen ones and reaching for a handhold on the tallest of the vertical ones when Raythe caught up to him. Raythe quickly reached the top and helped Bell up, but they realized there was an immediate problem. The pillar was only about four feet by four feet, and they weren't all going to fit with their gear on. "Ditch the packs!" Raythe yelled as he tossed his backpack. He helped Bell out of his larger one as Griff and Sands just made it up.

One of the eel-like creatures dove up after Griff's foot but only made it up about half way. Two more quickly followed, the longest of which was nearly eight feet long. None were able to reach all the way up, even when one of them flattened itself and tried to slither up.

"OK, I think we're OK for right now," Sands breathed. Everyone exhaled deeply as the immediate threat of death faded.

And then the oddest thing started to happen. Griff started to laugh. Raythe craned his head over to look, but couldn't see anything funny. Bell and Sands shrugged at each other.

"Uh, sir?" Bell asked, a bit tentative. It was beginning to sound like their commanding officer had lost it.

"My life is so weird. I'm on another planet, trapped up an artifact by a giant grass eel, with an alien from another galaxy, a Korean wrestler, and a pararescue that bakes cupcakes on the weekend."

Bell and Sands seemed to find this amusing because they started to chuckle, but Raythe was mostly just confused. Still, it seemed like the kind of comment that required a response. "I like Lieutenant Sands' cupcakes."

That resulted in full belly laughs from every other member of the team, and Griff had to hang on to Bell's shoulder to keep from losing his balance and falling off.

"I don't understand."

They kept laughing. Sands waved at him and said, "Somehow you made that sound dirty."

"I still don't understand."

"Oh, I'll explain later." Sands did like to explain things.

"This is kind of like a scene from that one movie," Bell said.

"_Tremors_?" Sands supplied.

"That's the one."

"Alright, alright, we'll have a showing later. Right now, we need to figure out a way down that doesn't get us eaten," Griff said.

"It appears to have only rudimentary eyes," Raythe began.

"You're thinking it hunts by the vibrations in the ground?" Sands asked.

"Well, yes, but I was mostly thinking that it usually hurts to have one's eyes shot. Its hide seems quite sturdy and effective at repelling bullets. The eyes might be a possible target."

Griff shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me. It looks like the two of you have the best shot."

Bell and Raythe were side by side, and one of the eels was attempting to push itself up the side of the pillar. "I'll take one side, you take the other," Bell said. Raythe nodded, and both pointed their handguns down at the creature. It was in its narrow shape, so both had shots of an eye on each side of what passed as its head.

They fired. The thing shrieked. Its center of gravity was too far from the pillar, and it fell backwards. It flopped around in the sand for a bit before it righted itself and ran into the grass.

"One down," Bell said.

"Uh oh," Griff muttered. Raythe couldn't really see what elicited the comment, though.

"One of the eels is climbing the fallen pillar. Like we did," Sands explained.

"I have an idea, but it might get us all killed." Griff pulled a grenade out of one of the pockets in his flak vest. He pulled the pin and grasped the grenade tightly. "Get ready to jump and run."

"I hate this plan," Bell said.

"At least you're on the other side of the crazy grenade-wielding major over here," Sands yelled.

The eel growled and leapt up at Griff. Griff dropped the grenade into the thing's wide open mouth. It swallowed.

"Run!"

No one needed telling twice. In fact, Sands had already jumped, and she landed and rolled across the sand just a second before Bell did. Raythe landed on his feet. The last eel turned for him.

The explosion lacked the raining body parts everyone was hoping for, but it rocked the pillar and knocked the last eel off balance for a second. Raythe saw Griff jump gracelessly as he lost his balance too and landed hard into the ground. Bell helped him up, and the four ran for the gate.

They were halfway there when the eel recovered its footing and chased after them. Sands opened fire with her P-90, which stalled it but did little damage.

"Dial the gate," Raythe said. "I'll keep it off us." He pulled his tactical knife out of its sheath and waited.

Sands got to the DHD first and began to dial.

The eel shrieked at Raythe. He crouched down and growled back. The eel dove, and he ducked to the side, sliding behind its front right foot. It turned sharply, twisting in on itself, but Raythe was ready for it. When it opened its mouth for him, he shoved his whole arm in and thrust the blade into the roof of its mouth.

The beast screamed and flailed away from him, nearly toppling over sideways in the process. It ran, and Raythe had to jump out of the way to avoid its tail slamming into his side. But run it did.

The wormhole burst open in a flash of blue light. No one went through immediately.

"Raythe, you are completely insane," Bell said.

Raythe stood up with as much dignity as he could muster while covered in sand and grass. "I can't speak with certainty about my sanity, but I am alive, and that's all that really matters. Or, at least, I think I'm alive. I don't think I would be thinking this if I weren't."

Sands smiled thinly. "'I think, therefore I am?'"

"Yes, that seems an apt way to put it. Oh, what's funny now?" The humans were laughing at him again.

Griff entered his IDC into his wrist pad. "Alright, children, let's go home."


End file.
